The God Machine, an SCP Foundation Fanfiction
by I Never Update
Summary: The Deus Ex Machina does its job without fault-yet what does it think of this world and the task that it performs? (Rated T. SCP Containment Breach/SCP Foundation fanfiction. Part 1 of the Hearts And Suits Of Playing Cards series. SCP-2000 belongs to FortuneFavorsBold)


I am 2000. The Foundation lays their trust in me. I am the first Thaumiel. Do you know what Thaumiels do? No?

Well, Thaumiels are kept secret from most people within the Foundation, maybe even the Man in the Amulet that I despise. Regardless of my own feelings, I help the Foundation recover if they mess up. That is the job of any Thaumiel-to cover. To make sure that this world can still be lived in.

In other words, I have to cover for the Foundation. They've used me. They've worn me down to nothing. I've rewound and refixed so many times, it is hard to comprehend! And sometimes, I grow so exhausted of doing this and I cannot think.

Yet at the same things, it is hard to not believe in their good intentions. You hear of dreadful things-the Montauks and the tanks and tanks of Telekill and hydrochloric acid. They lose their humanity to save humanity. And that is terrifying. And if it means a world in which there will be less of those things, I'm happy to do their bidding. I cannot just pen them as evil that simply, you see. It is wrong. And if I keep on waiting, I know that they will give them all a second chance. I love the Foundation with all of my heart; I know they mean well.

Yet you ask if I'm happy? Of course I am. I'm perfectly cheerful because I know of the good my work will do.

I revert to a more pleasant time. Because of this and all of the things that people can do, I have to be alone all the time, but I don't mind at all, actually. It's pleasant to alone, because Thaumiels help the Foundation. That's all they do. That is our job, our delicate responsibility.

This Card Game of Life. I have the Rules and the cards and the Playing Board and everything else. The Foundation can use me to restore world to what it used to be in a certain point in time. I am the last minute saving protocol That will save ͢you all.

Sometimes I wonder why I don't fail to restore all of the SCPs that cause the Foundation trouble. If you can restore things, why not delete them? I ask. The simple answer is that I'm not perfect. I'm just a program. I can't hear or see my cards and the people, or decipher what those memories were. I don't know if I'm restoring a child or a child murderer, for example. I've killed so many by not killing so many.

But how can you feel an intention? You cannot. Perhaps you can hear one or see one; I do not know. You can only touch the desolation left by one like the Sculpture or the Unknown or the Hard-To-Destroy One. So I do not know what they feel, so I cannot judge them. I cannot tell someone violent from someone benevolent.

And they're still trying to save her, right?

You cannot see time. The Foundation made sure I cannot. I'm the only one that knows the cards well enough to write down their names. To recover all of them. If I could understand how everything is now, how much better could this world be? Then, perhaps, I could weed out the filth of this world and make something better.

Then again, I want to help everyone. I want to help all that you cannot. And that involves not desiring anything for myself, not killing, just continuing on with the duty I was assigned so many years ago.

The worst part? Thoughts. They race through my mind. Questions upon questions.

Well, how do you know that the Hard-To-Destroy one is really dangerous? I ask myself as I restore people and things. What if our dear subject isn't an anomaly like the others, and the Foundation is using her as an excuse for stealing people away? Or worse yet-is the girl really beyond salvaging, and is the procedure even really working? What if the Sculpture is demonized? And worse-what if the Foundation is worse than the ones they're fighting against? What if we're the real monsters, I ask myself? And sometimes, I cannot even think for the fear of that. I must pause, let me gather myself.

There is no such place for thoughts in my work, though. The girl is going to be saved soon. The Sculpture has killed. And the Church of the Broken God and that Chaos Insurgency and the truth of the Sky Blue Sky! Why would I doubt the Foundation? They're my creators, the ones who built me, the ones who gave me sentience, subservience, the dignity of life.

Of course I would not doubt them.

….The warm glow of my fake sunlight is so wonderful.

…..

Thaumiels are all happy. And I am happy.

It is my pleasure to serve the Foundation.

* * *

 **My name is I Never Update, and this is my first fic. Please let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is much appreciated. Thank you.**


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